


51 Seasons of Color

by AnonymousShmonymous (Empress_of_Trash)



Series: Color Palette [1]
Category: Fifty Shades of Grey (2015), Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ana Becomes A Dom, Anastasia Steele Takes A Level In Badass, BDSM, Break Up, Canonical Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Christian Gets Some Therapy, Christian Grey Is A Bad Dom, Dom Anastasia Steele, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Past Relationship(s), Safe Sane and Consensual, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_of_Trash/pseuds/AnonymousShmonymous
Summary: Ana makes a different choice leading to new colors in her life besides just grey.





	51 Seasons of Color

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when me and my friends come up with a plot to fix 50 shades of Grey while randomly watching the second movie.

 

Anastasia left with tears in her eyes. Christian Grey was making her cry. Again. For a moment, just one moment, of weakness, she had considered it. Wiping away everything he had done wrong. Letting him back in. Things would be different this time. He promised. Ana would be the one making the decisions. She could see their whole future spiraling out before her in those few moments. She was sure it would begin innocently with Christian repentent and willing to go along with her.

 

But it wouldn’t stay that way. She knew it. Christian was too much himself and she too close to her feelings for him to resist for long. But if she gave in, even once, she was not confident the boundaries would hold.

 

Christian had already proven himself willing to push those more than she liked at times.

 

She cared for him, probably even loved him. But she could not let herself fall back into this with him.

 

So, when he pushed her against the building she put her hand in front of her mouth and said, very firmly, “No.”

 

Christian looked confused at first and then devastated. He quickly hid it and stepped back, releasing her as if touching her burned him. His shoulders slumped, ever so slightly and she felt an urge to bring him back to her, but stopped herself in time.

 

“We are just talking,” Anastasia told him. “No kissing. No holding. No touching.”

 

“Talking.” Christian agreed voice dull.

 

“Talking.” Ana parroted back.

 

And they did. Slowly at first, uncertainty, not used to it. Christian kept stopping and Ana kept having to take a step back to stop herself. They managed it though and it hurt. It hurt so bad to tell him no and to hear him admit his past desperate, almost pleading as he offered up parts of himself he kept hidden.

 

His eyes looked wet when they left, looking at her pained, hands clutching at the edges of his shirt like a little boy watching his mother leave.

 

“I love you,” he said, control shattering. Ana lost some of her own and reached out hands cupping his face.

 

“I know.” she told him, gentle and letting warmth and sorrow break her own. She kissed his forehead, infinitely gentle.

 

 _It’s not enough_ , she thought to herself. “Good-bye Christian.”

 

That night she cried herself to sleep, letting everything out. Not denying it and shattering under it as well. In the morning it hurt. It hurt like her heart was out of her, but somehow, somehow it felt cleaner. She felt lighter even with the pain inside her.

 

She swore those would be the last tears he got from her.

 

She looked at herself in the mirror, and remembered, remembered Christian loving her hair. Before she could process it she grabbed the scissors and was chopping it. Cutting more and more, a pile steadily building in front of her. She didn’t stop until it was well above her shoulders, an uneven pixie.

 

Ana took a shuddering breathe her head feeling so _light_ the weight gone and realized that she was terrible at cutting hair. She laughed at that and grabbed her phone.

 

She found the nearest salon and scheduled an appointment. The moment she entered she was dragged into a chair and fussed over, the woman clicking her tongue disapprovingly. The place was refreshingly low-budget after all the expense that was Christian.

 

The woman, Eve, she revealed her name, evened it to a short pixie close to her head, bangs falling at an angle now. Eyeing the bottles on the wall she made another decision then and there.

 

When she left it was with an even cut and bright red hair.


End file.
